Like Colin Firth Said
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz. Post-ep for "Brooklyn Without Limits". Perfection is overrated.


Title: Like Colin Firth Said

Author: Mindy35

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Tina's etc, no money made.

Pairing(s): Jack/Liz, mentions Jack/Avery, Liz/Carol

Spoilers: "Brooklyn Without Limits"

Summary: Post-ep. Perfection is overrated.

A/N: Famous movie alluded to without permission.

-x-x-x-

There is a brief skirmish of forks before Jack claims the final piece of cake, popping it in his mouth with a triumphant grin.

"Hey…" Liz frowns as she watches him chew.

Savoring the last bite, Jack drops his fork onto the platter and waves a hand. "Cake table away!"

"Yes sir!" the cake boy underneath responds, eagerly obeying and exiting.

"Sorry, Lemon," he mutters round his mouthful of sponge and frosting, "but since Avery has finished redesigning the apartment, she's started redesigning my diet."

"Oh. Really?"

He nods, licking his fingers. "Each morning, we halve a grapefruit and take a run-"

"_You_ go running? You're kidding me?"

"I'm quite an accomplished athlete, I will have you know."

"If you say so."

Jack settles back in one corner of the couch, unbuttoning his jacket. "But I'm no longer allowed bacon for breakfast. There are no more sweet, milky coffees in my future, Lemon. No more syrup-soaked waffles or roasted potatoes dripping in gravy or juicy steaks on my menu." He turns his eyes on her, lowering his voice to a deadly serious rasp. "And definitely…no cake."

Liz is wagging her head back and forth. "Good grief. Forgive me for saying so, but that's a dealbreaker if ever I heard one."

"Avery wants me to drop thirty pounds before the wedding."

"I see."

"She says without this-" he pauses to pat his full belly, "I'd be perfect."

"Yeah, well…" Liz settles back in her corner of the couch. "Perfection is overrated."

"The unrelenting catch cry of the chronically imperfect," Jack remarks dryly.

"Well, so what if I am imperfect?" she mutters, spreading her hands while lolled inelegantly in her corner. "I just walked around for a few days with the perfect ass and did it make me any happier?"

"It seemed to, yes."

She sighs, hands dropping. "Yeah, I'm gonna miss those jeans."

Jack runs an eye over her, decked in her shorteralls. "If you like, I can get my tailor to measure you up, whip you up a similar cut to your slave labor jeans."

"No." She shakes her head, giving another sigh. "No, the writers have barely written a word in days and the crew keeps dropping parts of the set all over the place, all because everyone's so busy double-taking at my new butt. It's probably better for the show if I revert to my usual, unremarkable, pear-shaped rear."

"Well…what's left of NBC appreciates your sacrifice."

"It's not that much of a sacrifice, really. I'm actually kind of relieved to have my old butt back. Even if it does resemble that of a baby rhinoceros. This might sound odd, but…" she clasps her hands together, gives a sentimental sniff, "it's part of what makes me _me_. You know? Just as your-" her eyes drift down over him, "extra padding makes you _you_. And I…I think you look good, honestly, I've always thought you looked good. Just as you are. So..."

Jack's eyes narrow, the corners of his mouth curving upwards. "Are we having a Bridget Jones moment here, Lemon? Am I meant to respond that I like you - and your ass - just as they are?"

She snorts loudly. "Oh my God, you totally watched that movie."

"Avery enjoys it."

"Ye-ah. Cos of Colin Firth, right?"

"No," he replies, stretching out his arms along the back and arm of the couch. "Avery doesn't _need_ dishy fantasy figures, Lemon. Not when she has…" he shoots her a look from beneath dark brows, "all of _this_."

Liz rolls her eyes. "Oh my _God_…"

"She simply finds it hilarious when the handsome, successful leading man chooses the chubby, inappropriate loser over the sophisticated and stunning business associate. She says such a thing would never happen in the real world."

"Uh."

"Or in New York, which _is_ the real world."

"Well, I'd have to agree with her there."

"Also, she likes seeing how the other half lives."

Her brow crumples. "What, the British?"

Jack meets her gaze, shaking his head, "No, the plain, insecure women. It gives her insight into their character. As she has so few female friends, she's preparing herself to meet other mothers, at play groups and so forth. She thinks it might be useful to know how these not-so-together women operate."

"Uh huh. Well, it sounds like she's got her finger on the pulse." Liz pauses half a moment before adding, "But I think she kind of missed the point of that movie."

"And what point would that be?"

"Well, you know…" she gives a shrug and says nothing more.

"That chunky Christmas sweaters are super sexy?"

"No!...well, yeah, but not what I meant."

"You mean that you can't judge a book by its cover?" he murmurs, brows lifted. "That Love isn't skin deep?"

"Yeah. That. See? You got it."

"Or that sometimes you can fall for the last person you'd think? And that after you do, the oddest things can seem the sexiest?"

"That too. I guess…"

"Or that sometimes all a man, no matter how brilliant and successful and handsome in a sweater and helpful in the kitchen-"

"Alright."

"All he really wants in the end…is a woman who makes him laugh?"

"_And also_…" she says, rising from the couch and facing him, hands on curvy hips, "that real ladies have real butts. From eating lots and lots of real good cake. And most _real_ guys actually like that." She starts for the door, an unintentional swagger in her step. She adds without looking back: "And you're still watching me walk away."

"How could I not?" Jack mutters from the couch. "It's so wrong and yet…I can't look away…"

Liz turns, her face lit with impish glee. "Hey. D'you want me to do the butt dance again? Cos I'll do it-"

He holds up a hand. "Please, no. Not in the shorteralls-"

"Come on!" she coaxes, "it'll be hilarious!"

Jack closes his eyes briefly. "Don't, Lemon. I beg of you. That really will haunt my dreams."

Her face falls, she slops the rest of the way to the door. "Your loss, buddy. Because this kind of butt-" she smacks it then waves a finger at him, "-only comes along once in a lifetime."

"That's for sure."

She pulls a face at him and disappears. But Jack calls her back, making her duck out from behind one door. "Yeah?"

He draws in a slow breath then tells her haltingly, "I…might not be completely adverse to…having your old ass back."

"O-oh." She straightens in the doorway, arches a brow at him. "You mean…_just as it is?"_

He smiles. "Exactly…as it is. Even, dare I say it, in shorteralls."

Liz suppresses a smile, her gaze dropping to the floor. Then she pronounces, shaking her head, "Too late, Jack. I'm not doing the dance now."

"Oh, Lemon-!" Jack holds his hands out in supplication.

"Nope-" she holds hers up in denial, then points at him. "You had your chance and you passed. Now I'm taking my lovely lady lumps and my kick-ass moves somewhere they're appreciated." She half-turns, teasing him with a glance of ample ass as she rubs it in: "Home - or online - to my perfect, perfect man." She shoots him a satisfied look as she saunters away.

"Perfection is overrated!" Jack calls after her.

"Ha!" she calls back. "Catch cry!"

Jack chuckles as he relaxes back in his seat. He chuckles again a moment later. But eventually, his smile fades and fades until it becomes a troubled frown instead. At which point, he tells himself: "I'm going to need more cake..."

_END._


End file.
